


First Aid

by icepixie



Series: Pigtails and Inkwells [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4736165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepixie/pseuds/icepixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jack Thompson, if you don't kiss me properly in the next five seconds, I believe I shall go quite mad."</p>
<p>For a long moment, Jack wondered if the last several minutes had all been a strange, frustrating dream that was finally taking a turn for satisfaction, but then Peggy muttered, "Do I have to do everything myself?" before she leaned forward, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.</p>
<p>[This time, Peggy befuddles Jack.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Aid

"Oh, hold still," Peggy admonished she attacked the long gash on Jack's right temple with alcohol.

"Hold still? This is worse than the punch that caused it. Good thing you weren't a nurse in the war."

"I'm sure we're all grateful for that." She rolled her eyes. "Just be glad I didn't hit you harder."

They'd needed to cause a scene in a bar owned by a man they suspected of having one of Stark's weapons so that Sousa could sneak into the office. Carter had chosen to start a brawl, with Jack as the first victim.

He supposed he wasn't actually _surprised_.

After they were kicked out, she'd insisted on taking him back to the penthouse Stark had put her up in to fix up all of his injuries—at last count, the cut on his temple, some scratches on his knuckles, a bruise on his jaw where she'd socked him harder than she meant, and a muscle in his side that twinged when he moved the wrong way, not to mention the various strains and aches that would start reporting in tonight and tomorrow. He'd refused on principle, and yet he'd somehow, without quite knowing how, found himself seated in a handsome wooden dining chair in Stark's opulent, modern kitchen while Peggy cleaned him up.

"Why do I get the feeling you wouldn't have minded really socking me one if the opportunity presented itself?"

A shadow crossed her face, and she paused briefly in dabbing the alcohol-soaked cotton ball at his cut. "I don't actually enjoy hurting you."

"That right hook you gave me in the alley behind the automat says otherwise." Well, that had slipped out. Was he really still that sore about it? It had been weeks now.

"You were in my way," she said, pulling the cotton ball away and reaching for a bandage from her well-stocked first aid kit. It looked a lot like his. Some Army habits died hard, he supposed. "I was trying to protect Howard."

She placed the bandage over his wound, pressing lightly with her fingertips so the adhesive would stick to his skin. At the edges, where they touched his forehead, he felt electricity crackle, and sucked in a breath he hoped she didn't hear.

"Glad to know you think of me as a roadblock, Carter."

With a sharp huff of breath, she sat back in her own chair. "What do you want me to do, Jack? Apologize again?"

The imp of the perverse took hold of his tongue, as it so often did around her. "You could kiss it better."

Her whole face wrinkled in disgust, and he _knew_ she was about to stand up and walk away. But then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his temple.

He should _not_ have enjoyed it as much as he did. She wasn't even really touching him, for Christ's sake, just the bandage, but the mere thought of those incredibly red lips on his body was...

The Chief had been more astute than he knew, calling it a crush. Jack would never in a million years admit it out loud, but Peggy Carter was the object of more than one very satisfying fantasy. That was Peggy; always breaking in where she wasn't supposed to be and making herself at home, from the SSR to the deepest recesses of his brain.

When she drew back, he felt the loss of contact immediately. If he'd been a weaker man, he might have whined.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, that pale English china complexion darkened by...something. Maybe she was just embarrassed. He watched her take a deep breath. "Better?"

"Much." He pointed at her chin, his finger only an inch away from her. They were still well within each other's space. "You got a bump there." The red lump, about the size of a marble, was already gaining hints of purple and blue.

"The big fellow in the bowler. He got me straight on," she admitted, a little sheepish. Jack wondered, briefly, if it might be possible to find the man who'd landed a punch on her and make sure he received one or ten in return.

Before he'd really thought about what he was doing, Jack leaned over to kiss the bruise. Peggy turned her head at the same moment, and he found himself kissing the corner of her mouth, not quite her cheek and not entirely her lips.

He froze. She froze. This...was not what he had planned.

They both remained still as stones for what felt like hours, locked in the awkward not-quite kiss, until Jack finally made himself pull away.

His face started to burn as he stared at her lips, at the tiny smudge in the lipstick at the furthest corner of her mouth, evidence that his own had pressed against it. His lips tingled at the memory of her skin. He knew he should be apologizing, but the only thing he could think was how much he wanted to kiss her for real.

Her lips parted slightly, and he managed to drag his gaze up to her eyes as she took a breath to speak.

"Jack Thompson, if you don't kiss me properly in the next five seconds, I believe I shall go quite mad."

For a long moment, Jack wondered if the last several minutes had all been a strange, frustrating dream that was finally taking a turn for satisfaction, but then Peggy muttered, "Do I have to do everything myself?" before she leaned forward, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.

And it felt way too real to be a dream. She crushed her mouth against his, taking complete control as she pulled his lower lip between her own, before he caught up to what was happening and kissed her back.

Peggy's lips were soft and sweet under that red lipstick, but like all the rest of her they masked a hard determination. She kissed like she was directing a tac team. All at the same time, she slid her fingers up his neck into his hair, fisted his collar even tighter in her hand, and insisted none too gently with her tongue until he had no choice but to let her in.

When she eventually drew back, leaving both of them panting, Jack was too stunned to say anything. His brain was too full of her lingering taste, of the light perfume still evident under the dirt and sweat of the bar fight, of the remembered feeling of her fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck. He noticed that she hadn't removed her other hand from his shirt.

She noticed too, apparently, and slowly uncurled her fist. He saw her swallow and glance at her lap for an instant before looking back at him. "I hope I haven't just made a terrible mistake."

"What? No! No, no, no mistake," he babbled, because suddenly the thought of Peggy never kissing him like that again was the worst possibility in the world, worse than never rooting out all of the remaining Leviathan sects, worse than losing—well, okay, maybe not worse than losing the war, but it was up there. "That was..." He tried to come up with something suave and sophisticated, or at least grammatically correct, but he was too distracted by the way her lipstick had smudged around her mouth, and by the giddy thought that he'd been the one to make it that way. The unflappable Peggy Carter, finally flapped. By kissing him.

"I could do that again, even." He could do it a _lot_.

Her smile started as relieved, and went straight to mischievous. "Oh, good. I had rather hoped it wouldn't be a one-time occurrence."

He almost took her up on that suggestion right then and there, but he had to know first. "What made you...I mean, why...." His brow furrowed. "Now?"

She smirked, and he initially thought it was merely in amusement at his tongue-tied attempt to speak, but then he recognized the fondness lurking underneath. "You gave me such a good opening."

"Always looking for best tactical position?" She shrugged in acknowledgement. He expected nothing less, really. "Less than an hour ago you were punching me in the face, and now..." He almost laughed. "Are all British dames this confusing, or is that one of your specialties?"

"I think you'll find I have many specialities, Jack." She leaned forward to kiss him again, and he soon realized exactly how right she was.


End file.
